


Faire semblant

by captain_vantass



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-07-22 15:59:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7445170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captain_vantass/pseuds/captain_vantass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last time Améile and Lena spent the night together; The first time Widowmaker and Tracer do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Before Widowmaker and Tracer, there was Améile and Lena. A married woman and a pilot in training. 
> 
> -  
> My first 'nsfw' in celebration of my birthday. Hell yeah.

_"We can't do this anymore."_ She whispered in the dead of night. Her lips still lingering around Lena's earlobe. Lipstick prints still stained her bare skin, practically marking her as the elder woman's . Her heart sank, head tilted to hide in her chest. Drowning in the scent of her lavish perfume. 

A gift from her husband, no doubt. 

Throat dry, she kissed at her skin. Améile shifted beneath her. "Lena," She started. One of her hands, soft and freshly manicured carded through her soft, brunette locks. "Did you hear me, ma chérie?"

Lena gave a grunt, Améile gave a sigh. 

It was quiet. Améile played with Lena's hair, as though she knew how desperately the young woman craved her touch. (Then again, she probably did.) She practically whined for her touch, her eyes screwed shut as she tried to pretend Améile hadn't said anything, but that wouldn't get them anywhere. Améile had said something. And choosing to ignore it was almost the same as agreeing with it. 

Eventually, Lena spoke up.

"Is it because I said I love you?" Lena breathed the words out, her throat still raspy from screaming the other woman's name. Améile tensed beneath her and she finally had the courage to sit up. The room was dark, hints of moonlight illuminating the love of her life. Her eyes seemed to glow, or maybe it was the stripe of moonlight across her face. Tangled mess of dark hair, disheveled and strewn across the bed. The way her eyes looked tired, disappointed curl to her lips..

Her heart ached and she swallowed the lump in her throat. "It won't happen again. I didn't really mean it, love, it was just... Heat of the moment. It's insignificant, love. See? Insignificant."

"Lena..."

The brunette was back against her, lips peppering kisses over her throat and collarbone. Améile squirmed beneath her and pride welled deep in her chest. "I know you don't love me," She murmured, her words fanned out over her throat while her lidded gaze raised to catch the flush of Améile's cheeks, the way her teeth caught her lip and dug in. "Can we just pretend?"

Améile hesitated. And she sprung on her hesitation, raising her lips to her lovers' own. She stole her words in a desperate, long kiss. 

"It'll just be between us, love... Just... Us."

Manicured nails combed through her hair, brushing the windblown strands back into place. Freeing her face to make direct eye contact. Something that sent chills down her spine and a flush to her own cheeks. 

"We can pretend." She murmured, playing with her hair. _"Seulement pour toi, mon amour."_

Lena couldn't help the smile that split across her lips, showing her teeth in a brief, giddy grin. 

Soft lips drug down warm skin. Between the mounds of her breasts. Her hand shifted from the mattress to the soft flesh. Kneading it delicately and coaxing shivers and whimpers from the French woman. If she hadn't been trying to win her back, she would have teased her for the needy way she whispered her name. Even if it went directly between her own thighs in a flash of needy pleasure on her own part. 

_"Lena,"_ Améile arched off the bed, the fingers lingering in her hair curled. Giving her an impatient push further down, trying to coax her head where she really needed her, without using words. "Do not tease me, ma chérie."

"I'm getting there, love.." She cooed softly, breathing out a laugh against her stomach as Améile let out a pure, needy whine. "I'm not teasing, I swear."

Her hand abandoned her chest to gently take her by the wrist and pull it away from her hair. Leave those long fingers to curl around the sheets. 

Somewhere around her navel, Lena found herself wishing she could leave marks on her skin. Hickies would look lovely, made by her own mouth and decorating her body like stars. Instead, the most she left behind was lipstick, most of which had already smeared onto her throat. 

"Lena-" She murmured again and she finally descended entirely between her legs. "My love.." 

Her heart skipped a beat. No, several beats. Lena would have bet that it stopped entirely. 

Améile's head was already thrown back, lips parted so breathless pants could escape her throat. The way her body curved in the moonlight was enchanting. Fingers clutched tight around the sheets and Lena couldn't keep her waiting any longer. 

Lena decided, with her head between Améile's thighs and her name spilling off her lovers' tongue, that she'd rather waste her life pretending to be in love then pretending to be over her.


	2. Je Ne Vous Ai Jamais Manqué

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today was an off day. She wasn't _supposed_ to be doing anything. It was something of a mandatory break imposed by fretful medics.

It was cold. Flakes of snow twisted through the air and floated toward the ice-slick ground. Boots crunched against the cold layer on the ground, occasionally scuffing to kick some of it into the air just to watch it fall back down. 

Today was an off day. She wasn't _supposed_ to be doing anything. It was something of a mandatory break imposed by fretful medics. "You'll work yourself to death!" She had claimed, without having a real target. She accused all of them, while she went into yet another hour of being on duty. She couldn't help but quirk a little smile at the thought.  
Hypocrite. 

At least, everyone had agreed unanimously that there would be a break in store for the poor medic. Whether she wanted it not not, she was going to get to rest.. And all of Overwatch would just have to tiptoe on glass to stay uninjured while she rested.

But that was later.. For now, there was a pub in store for a weary soldier.

Lena shivered, shaking off the bite of the cold while warm air hit her skin. It didn't take long before she shrugged her coat clean off her shoulders. In the dim light, her accelerator glowed. Illuminating her torso and the bar countertop with a dull blue. The place was.. Nearly empty. There was the bartender, who rolled his eyes at the sight of her beaming grin, someone slumped over the countertop down the way, and a small group, with their backs poised to onlookers.

Nothing she was going to worry about today, of course. She wasn't there to cause trouble, she didn't want to _get_ into trouble. She just wanted to enjoy her drink and head back to the base.  
Only because of the doctor's orders, of course.  
Not because she wanted a stiff drink, no sir.

Doctor's orders.

Nothing exciting happened during her first drink.. And it seemed to go by so quickly, there was no harm in having a second one.

With a comfortable haze seeping into her thoughts, she nursed her way through the second one. Man, how long had it been since she last had a drink? She felt like a lightweight all over again. There was a time where she could throw three of these back and still be peachy. She was almost disappointed in herself.

Somewhere, behind her, she caught a bit of whispering. It wasn't the words that caught her attention. Just the voice. 

Like silk, just out of reach and painfully familiar. How long had it been since she heard her voice?  
Too long. It was embedded in her mind and hearing it- Just whispers of it, was like getting a hit from her favorite drug.  
Lena whipped around so fast she nearly spilled her drink. The drink didn't matter, the woman she heard did.

The name burned the back of her throat, threatening to leave without her help. However, it appeared the owner of the voice was leaving the building. She lurched from her seat, fumbling a handful of bills from her pocket and slapping them on the counter. She probably overpaid. Who cared.

In a blink, she flashed to the door before it fully closed. Her arm shot out, shoving it open as she stumbled back through it. Biting cold hit her skin and she uncontrollably shivered. She wouldn't be long, though. She just needed to find her..

Lena spotted a figure turning the corner. Bingo. She blinked across the sidewalk, her shoes skidded along the icy ground, sending her sliding just a little.

"Améile!"

Her voice cracked as the name left her without her permission, echoing down the street.

The empty street.

Lena's heart sank like a sack of bricks. Expression twisted; distorted pitifully from the heartache.

"No.." She murmured. The cold felt suffocating and she shivered as she took a couple more slow steps.. The silence was murderous. The sound of her lone steps crunching in the ice felt like stabs to the heart. She couldn't make it much further then the buildings end, hopelessly looking down the dark alleyway. Empty. 

"Stupid.." The word left her throat through her teeth. "Stupid.. _Stupid!_ " With a frustrated sound, like almost like a shriek, she kicked a can across the pavement. It clattered a short distance away and in her irritation, she pursued it. 

One more good kick got her frustration out. "..'Course it wasn't her.. Bloody idiot.." Both hands went to run through her hair, curling around the strands at the back of her head. "Wasn't _who_ , ma chérie?" 

Surprise made her heart skip a beat. Lena twisted on the spot, like if she didn't go fast enough she'd lose the voice again.

The name started to leave her again, before being cut off.

The features were all right, in theory. She looked like the same woman Lena had lost.. But at the same time, she wasn't. She looked as cold as ice, from the off tint of her skin to the way her eyes looked down at her. Like all the love had drained out of her. She felt _off_ and the whispers she'd heard, she'd refused to acknowledge, came rushing back to her.. 

But.. Améile wouldn't do that. _Her_ Améile couldn't..

Unfortunately, she was reconsidering the sincerity of that statement when Not-Améile moved. The icy barrel of a gun made itself nice and cozy against the underside of her chin. Compulsively, her hands raised. " _Who_ were you looking for?" 

Lena felt like her throat dried out. How was she supposed to speak, when all her thoughts were stolen away?

"Améile.." Lena started. It wasn't quite an answer to her question.. More like an amazed murmur. Like she was absolutely starstruck. Améile's eyebrows raised and she stuttered further. "Amélie Lacroix.. Is who.. Who I was looking for."

The heartwarming reunion she'd longed for was shattered when the gun pressed further into her chin. Amélie, or this hollow imitation of the woman she was, _smirked_ at her. "No such woman. Such a shame to disappoint such a pretty face." Lena was certain that the other woman could see the heartache across her face. The hand, the one that _wasn't_ holding the dangerous end of a no-doubt loaded gun against her chin, reached up to stroke her cheek. ~~Cold. Ice. Worse then the frosty air.~~ "Oh, oh, don't pout.." She crooned. Her thumb brushed across Lena's lips and she shivered.

She could _feel_ the color rushing to her cheeks, coloring them a nice, bright red. "I'm not- I'm not pouting." Lena scoffed. She would have flinched from her touch, had the threat of the sturdy weapon against her throat not remained.

"Of course you're not, ma chérie." She murmured, her voice practically a taunt. "That doe-eyed look of pain is just your face, isn't it? I remember this look, I remember it. I remember you looking at me like this, every _single_ night that I tried to leave you.."

Something in her chest twisted and she couldn't resist turning away from the woman who laughed at her embarrassment. Amélie didn't let her look away, though. She guided her gaze back to her. "Don't look away from me, you know it's true, _mon amour_ , I missed that look in your eyes.."

"You missed hurting me?" Lena fired back, without hesitation. 

Without missing a beat, Amélie retorted, "Oui. If only for the divine way your lower lip juts out when you pout.. Or the way your eyebrows crease together. And this little tinting to your cheeks.. Oh, so cute.."

"Stop it-"

"How sweet it is to hear your distress!"

" _Amélie_ ," Lena croaked, a shuddering breath making the painfully obvious threat of what may come. Once upon a time, Amélie would look sympathetically down at her. She'd kiss her softly and ask her not to cry. Please. Because it broke her heart to see Lena cry. It's what she'd always say- She _always_ claimed it. 

This woman? She simply scoffed. She pinched Lena's rosy cheek and tugged on it like a pesky aunt at a family gathering. "Que c'est mignon!" Amélie crooned, while Lena discovered, _that_ gesture was the end of her rope. 

Lena's hand moved on it's own accord, taking advantage of how _distracted_ the other woman was. The icy gun was gripped tight and firm by cold fingers. In the seconds between her hand moving and the gun moving, Lena was able to catch the surprise across her face. 

And then the gun went off. 

A whisk of air shot past her hair. Strands atop her head cut short abruptly. The metal of the gun started to burn beneath her grip. There was the explosion, the pop, and an endless ringing.. But her head was still attached. She was still.. 

_Not safe!_

The butt of Amélie's gun came for the side of her head. Barely, _barely_ she blinked out of the way, skidding across the ice at the far end of the alley. 

Amélie was shouting, but Lena could make out a word of it. Everything was too loud in her own head, between the ringing in her ears and the overwhelming screaming of her thoughts. 

She took a couple stumbling steps to retreat as that gun was leveled in front of the woman, pointed at her. The snarl on her face, behind the sniper's scope.. She couldn't. Awkward steps carried her backwards and when the first shots fired off, so had she. In the blink of an eye, she as gone. Leaving her behind.. Leaving.. _Her._

Blinking out of the alley, and then sprinting down the sidewalk as fast as she could go. 

She didn't dare slow down. She couldn't have if she tried. Her legs refused to slow, even when her lungs started to burn and she'd left the dark alleyway behind. Tears rolled down her frozen cheeks, leaving scorching trails. 

So, she thought with a bitterness that made her heart ache, the rumors were true. 

Amélie really was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter three, anybody?


End file.
